Page 80 of Bend

I huff a laugh. “Emotionally stable representative? Jesus that title feels generous.”

“Ah, but not wrong.”

“Maybe not.”

She studies my face for a second. “You’re upset.”

I look at her.

“Honestly, not really. At least not with you,” I say.

“Really?.”

I drag my elbow onto my knee and rest my forearm there. “Yeah. I mean, could you have handled it differently? Sure. But it doesn’t change how I see you.”

My tone softens a little.

“If anything, it just makes me realize how much shit you’re actually carrying. Losing your mom is hard enough on its own. Add the secret family drama, Talon losing his mind every other day, and yeah… I think you’ve earned a little chaos that’s actually yours.”

“A little?” she asks. “Now who’s being generous?”

That gets a laugh out of me. “What can I say? I’m a very giving man.”

I smirk, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Was I shocked, fuck yeah I was, but I also get why she didn’t say anything. Really wish she had. But I get it, clearly more than the other guys do.

Because I know what it is to need one thing that feels normal before the world starts naming you according to all the ways it’s just changed. I know what it is to want a moment that belongs to you before it starts belonging to everyone else.

Was it messy?

Absolutely.

Did it blow up in her face?

Also yes, but none of that changes the fact that what happened with her didn’t feel fake.

And if I’m being honest, if affection for her’s going to end up shared at all, I’d rather it be with guys I actually know, and trust, rather than with some random prick I’d have to dig out of a drainage ditch later.

That thought doesn’t exactly improve my mood and clearly she notices. Her pretty brown eyes flicker from the ocean, and her notebook back to me like she’s trying to figure out what's going on in my head.

“So if it’s not my self created chaos that has you upset, what is it?” she asks.

I drag a hand slowly over my jaw, contemplating how to even put my emotions into words that don’t sound as hurt as I’m feeling.

Her eyes narrow. “You know you can talk to me right?”

“Yeah, I know,” I meet her gaze. “It’s just nothing new. Same shit different fucking day, ya know?”

That goes quiet between us.

Not because it’s some huge declaration, but because she knows without me having to say anything.

A gull cries overhead, and the wind catches a strand of her hair, dragging it across her mouth. She catches it with a small huff and tucks it back.

“I know it’s hard,” she says softly. “But he will come around. I’m sure he’s hurting just as much as you are.”

Then she closes her notebook, sets it down beside her in the sand, and before I can say anything else, she shifts into my lap, straddling me so she’s facing me. Her arms slide around my neck, fingers slipping into my hair, and Christ, that does something to me straight away.

Not just because she’s warm and soft and here, but because she does it like it’s the most natural thing in the world to climb into my space and stay there.